


Broken bottles and lonely neighbours

by reysbucky



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Brienne is the Best, Canon-Typical Violence, Disability, F/M, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Physical Disability, Sex, Violence, age gap, jaime is a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-02 16:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18814678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reysbucky/pseuds/reysbucky
Summary: In which Brienne finds herself curious about her acohol addicted neighbour.





	1. New Neighbours

**Author's Note:**

> My first story on AO3 and I'm still trying to figure out everything. I hope you enjoy this angsty journey anyway

The sunlight flooded her living room as she opened the curtains and let the sweet summer sun into her room. Summer has always been her favourite time of the year, even as a child. There was nothing better than fishing in the hot summer sun on Tarth, together with her father. Brienne missed it sometimes. The blue water of Tarth has never failed to make her eyes light up while she enjoyed the soft breeze in her neck and the lovely silence beside the sound of the waves. How long has it been since her last visit on the island? At the age of 20, she had left her home and went to King's Landing, the capital. She went to college and still, here she was, working in a diner to somehow afford her appartement. The boringness of her life haunted her in her nightmares, it followed her to the deepest part of her mind. Sometimes, she asked herself if it was her fault. She lost her trust in people a long time ago, after she experienced the heartlessness most people welcomed her with. They called her names, made fun about her and at some point, she had stopped to care, but Brienne was still able to feel those scars on her heart and in her mind. 

She could never forget what some people had said to her, what some people had thought about her. And still, here she was, living her one life. It was boring and uneventful, almost like she lived every day ten times in a row, no exceptions, no changes to make her situation vary. If Brienne was honest, she had already found peace with the thought that nothing would change any time soon, so she tried to live through it, keeping only a small glimspe of hope up, in case she really had to hold onto something, to really have something she could root for, whenever she didn't know what the next day would bring to her other than the usual one hour journey to her work and the same old words from the grandmas living next to her. Olenna Tyrell had recently passed away and Brienne remembered how much she still missed that old woman. She always had the best stories, a large amount of wit and a good heart. On New Year's Eve, she often visited her for a few hours, drinking some of the dornish Wine she had saved for years or open a bottle of champagne. What else could they do than talking about the past and complaining about the present? The blonde woman really missed her old neighbour. Sometimes, it was a relief to have her granddaughter over, Margaery. She was a kind woman, one you could laugh with as well even though Brienne never was one for many jokes. At least, she wasn't good at making them herself. 

She wasn't good at cooking either. Brienne had proved it to herself again, swearing at the pizza she had just thrown into the oven. Too much time had passed and she hadn't realised how long she had left her food in the oven. Now, it was dark and wouldn't taste as good as before. "Seven hells", she mumbled, trying to cut the hard edge of the pizza. The woman had her free day today and how did she spent it? Worrying about a pizza she just had to shove into the oven and take out at the right time. What a miracle she didn't put her whole kitchen on fire in just twenty minutes. Additional to her not very feminine appearance, she could never be a classic housewife like most men expected from a woman. Her interests and skills always laid far away from cooking, cleaning and the handling of kids. Born as an only child, she never had to get along with younger siblings, with a bigger family. Another insult to the pizza fell from her mouth, until she heard the sound of her doorbell, clearly distracting her from the miserable food she had made for herself. Who stood on her door, unannounced, on her free day just a little after noon? 

The tall woman furrowed her eyebrows, her expression hardening while she tried to get a glimpse of who was standing in front of her door through the kitchen window. It looked like a man, but she couldn't recognise more than the colour of his hair and the stature of his body. She was sure to have never met this person, but she still opened the door a few seconds later, eyes meeting with a pair of green ones, tiredness marking them. The man's face looked exhausted, not old, but it could have looked that way if he didn't have a small smirk on his lips. "How can I help you?", she asked, confused to find a stranger at her doorstep. "I was wondering", the man started, eyes narrowing a bit, just like he thought the same about her like everyone else. 'What an ugly woman... was she even a woman?'

"You were wondering?", Brienne asked after he had stopped for what felt like ten minutes. Only then, she noticed the smell of alcohol radiating from him. Was that a junkie on her doorstep or an alcohol addict? What did he want from her? "I was wondering if you had a glass for me?" Her expression changed to pure confusement now. He asked for a glass? She had met a few weird people in her life, but this was putting a new high to her list. "Sure, I-" Brienne wanted to add something, wanted to ask further and wanted to know why he didn't have a glass himself. But she wasn't going to be too curious, maybe he wouldn't even want to tell her. It couldn't matter less to her anyway. "Wait here", she told him. The woman wasn't going to risk anything, who knew what this man was up to? She had never seen him before, not even heard of someone similiar to his physical appearance. As she came back from her kitchen, glass tightly in her hand, she was met by the man in her hallway. Brienne wanted to tell him off for stepping in even though she had clearly asked him to stay outside. Should she start a war with her neighbour immediately after he moved in? She assumed he was going to live next to her, considering that the house had been bought a while ago, the one old Olenna had lived in for a long time. "Here you go", she told him, handing the glass to him. 

it was then when she spotted the special thing about this man beside his revolting scent. He had reached out with his right hand, but Brienne soon noticed the lack of a hand and only spotted the stump of where his hand had been. Almost ashamed, her new neighbour flinched, grabbing the glass with the left hand instead, before he quickly made his way down her doorsteps, leaving Brienne a bit shocked in her own home. "Thank you", he said, his last words to her before she watched him leave and just as expected, he opened the front foor of the house next to hers, before he disappeared into the building. Whoever this was, he got himself stuck in Brienne's memories for the next few hours. 

It was past midnight when she finally closed the curtains in her bedroom, but before closed them completely, she glanced to the window of her neighbour, the one who had suddenly shown up on her door. The light was still on in the room she could look into. Brienne felt like a weird ass stalker for a few minutes, before she shook away the thought and narrowed her eyes, trying to get a better look on what was happening. It was now that she realised someone was sitting just next to the window, the end of a wine bottle between his lips and the stump raised in the air, almost like he had been looking at it for the last few hours. It was only at the fast movement of the man in the window that made her flinch and almost look away. The bottle had collided with the wall, or at least, that was what she could have guessed from seeing a bottle fly around. 

Whoever this man was, he seemed to suffer a lot. 


	2. Hurting Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m overwhelmed by how many people even clicked onto my story lol. Thank you for that! xx
> 
> And here's a closer look at the mess Jaime is.

Jaime had never been a fan of King’s Landing. He remembered the small town he had grown up in, together with his brother Tyrion and his twin Cersei. He missed them, more than anything. But they were trapped in their own lives, they didn’t have enough time to spend their free time with their brother who suffered from the loss of his hand. The blonde man had never learned how to overcome the pain he felt whenever his stump hurt, whenever he reached out for something with his right arm. It took him some time until he had learned to fill water into his glass with his left hand, or to wash himself with his left hand. He had to learn basically _everything_ again, even pleasuring himself with his left hand became nothing more than a challenge. His times as a golden lion were over. He was nothing like the handsome man anymore, nothing like the proud heir of the Lannister business. His father was pleased by the fact of his eldest son continuing their work one day, until he managed to get his hand cut off. That wasn’t the issue. Whatever happened after Jaime’s loss was the problem. The good looks had faded quickly, the blonde of his hair had darkened, almost like a shadow laid over it. The green eyes’ shine had faded, leaving him tired and exhausted. He had stopped shaving a while ago, his beard has grown out more than ever before. Jaime had lost track of what he had left behind in the last few months. 

Not only long ago, he had been the handsome bachelor, wanted by whatever lady crossed his path. He just had to smirk a bit, let one or two compliments fall from his lips and he’d have a woman wrapped around his finger. Not much later he’d have her in his bed, hands roaming over the heavenly body he had chosen for the night. What was left of that guy? Nothing except the good looks buried underneath the pain that controlled him from deep inside. Would he ever be able to enjoy a woman’s body like that again? Would women still think of him as that handsome guy? He doubted it. In his current state, he didn’t look better than a homeless guy from the nearby street. 

After the accident with his hand and the following depression, he had found some comfort in the addicting liquid that poured down his throat once again. Wine, beer, whatever he could find. It was all a part of his secret therapy to live better with himself. If he hadn’t been so arrogant, he could have had two hands. 

It was his own fault, nobody else’s. He was the one responsible for the loss of his hand, he was the one to be blamed for this. His father had told him he shouldn’t try and get a deal with the Bolton men. They were dangerous, criminals. Nobody ever had a really successful deal with them where nobody died. At least one life would be taken while the money flooded into the firm. Jaime had got himself into trouble and he soon realised that, after he had taken a sip of his wine one last time, realising the looks on him. And now, the Lannister emptied the bottle of whiskey completely, just like he had wished to do so many months earlier. All those painful memories flashed in front of his eyes, burning themselves into his brain and his thoughts and before could really think about his actions, the bottle collided with the wall. Pieces of glass spread in the room, making the blonde man's left hand shiver again. He felt a tickle on his stump, almost like his right hand would have started to shake as well, to react to how borken Jaime now was. There was not even a bit left of the golden lion he once was. If his friends could see him now, they would call him everything, but not that cheesy nickname they once gave him. He wanted to shut the lights in his room or at least close the curtains. If anyone saw him like that, they would want him to take a therapy.

His head turned around, looking through the large window of his living room. Moving into this rather small house had been the best way to escape the pressure his family put on him. If he ever was sane enough to work again, he would have a longer way to work, but maybe that was better - to have some distance to what brought him into this mess of a life. His good hand found its way into his hair, tugging on the long strands of his hair. His hair had looked a lot better before his accident, before he became what he was now. The golden colour had faded, there was nothing left of the shine it once had. A few hours earlier, he got proof what a mess he was. He had broken the last glass he had in his kitchen and had to ask his neighbour for a new one. The woman was ugly, but kind enough to give him one of hers. But her eyes - Jaime had caught himself wishing his one ones could shine like that again, or at least look like he was still alive. Whatever jab he would have thrown at her when he had been in a better state, he wasn't even close to insult back at her house. Gods, she was probably able to leave him with bruises all over his body. As he began to think about the encounter earlier today, he realised how alone he actually was. The silence in his leaving room was hurting him more and more, daggers thrown into his head over and over again. He didn't manage to put the TV on, the voices from it were too loud. 

The silence wasn't comfortable, not the one he enjoyed after he came home from work, a glass of wine in his hand and maybe a woman next to him. Now the silence was digging into his skin, into the deepest parts of his mind. If he had someone to talk to, someone who could listen, but only reply loud enough to be heard, not screaming at him like Cersei had done the last time they met. His siblings... how much he missed them even though he was a disappointment through and through. Tyrion's last look at him, back when he managed to get out of bed and go to a bar with his brother, was still visible in front of his eyes. A look full of pity for him. And Cersei? She had yelled at him, for not accepting any help she was offering. She had yelled at him, because he didn't listen and desperately tried to get something back that was long lost. 

Slowly, clearly afraid he could maybe trip over his own feet and find himself on the ground, he got up from the sofa and headed for the bathroom. Just when he had managed to get out of his upper clothes, the doorbell rang and put a pain through his head he could have never imagined. "Seven hells", he hissed, hand clinging onto the edge of the washbasin. One last look into the mirror, seeing his fallen self, before he went to the door. "What do you want?"

And there she was again, the ugly neighbour he had met earlier. 


End file.
